The Pale Banner
The town of Killeen moved with the heavy, grinding patience of a millstone, every wheel of its industry creaking against the damp earth of the bog roads that scarred the landscape like old wounds. It was a place where the air tasted of peat and rust, and where the only true currency was the scrip that bought bread in the company store and silence in the parlor. Tadhg Lenehan sat in the federal...
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